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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449959">A Shut Door</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke'>LadyBrooke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>As the World Falls Down - David Bowie (Music Video)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For months, a picture of a man who does not exist slides into the fax machine tray.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jukebox 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Shut Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/gifts">Teaotter</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth looked across the room as another picture of a man who did not exist slid into the fax machine’s tray.</p><p>They had been coming for months, even as there seemed to be nowhere they were coming from and she had been unable to find any proof of who the man was, no matter how much she obsessed over the question. </p><p>The nightclub down the street had been her best lead, but while a few of the patrons swore they recognized the man, nobody had been able to tell her his name. Nor had any of them been able to tell her where they knew him from, even though they all swore he was a singer.</p><p>The most helpful lead, if it could be called that, was the one old man at the counter who remembered a door somewhere in town that lead to nowhere and everywhere at the same time, where he had met a similar man some thirty years ago. What exactly he meant by that had not been clear, but still she decided to look for it.</p><p>She had spent days pounding the streets, still in the same high heels she had worn to the nightclub. She wasn’t sure why, but something told her it was important to wear her favorite shoes, just in case. </p><p>If her job had taught her anything, it was to follow those instincts, and so she had worn the heels as she walked down alleyways and up hills, across residential streets and behind businesses, until finally she had found it.</p><p>The door itself was rather unremarkable, as was the house it was attached.</p><p>Inside the house, though, was another story.</p><p>She had not entered, but when the door had opened, seemingly on its own, she had seen what looked like a street stretching deep into the house.</p><p>She shook her head, unable to believe what was there.</p><p>The next time she raised her head, the scene had shifted.</p><p>Inside was the man, though he did not look at her. Instead he began to sing, a song she could feel resonating on the street even as she began to walk closer.</p><p>Right as she reached the curb, a car drove by, water splashing onto her face and her coat, causing her to blink.</p><p>She looked down, for a second, checking that her bag was still dry.</p><p>When she looked back up, the door was shut again. She waited a moment, hoping it would reopen.</p><p>It did not.</p><p>She waited a moment longer.</p><p>It still did not open.</p><p>She turned on her heels and walked away.</p><p>Soon, her mind whispered. Soon. But not right this moment.</p><p>She would go back to her office first, she decided, and organize her belongings.</p><p>Then she could come back for more answers.</p><p>The fax machine was still printing when she opened the door, this time pictures of a different being. A goblin, she would have called it if such beings existed.</p><p>Perhaps they did, she thought. It would hardly be stranger than that house was, with the door that had seemingly led down a street. Her eyes were drawn again to the fax machine, and the pictures loading the tray far beyond what the machine was actually capable of.</p><p>If the door had been real, and she could hardly doubt it had been, even as it seemed so very unreal now that she was back in her own office, than that was proof enough that things were not quite as she had thought. If that was the case, than anything was possible.</p><p>Her eyes drifted to the few things in the office she could not live without. Pictures, mostly, but also a few trinkets. She stood again, this time on bare feet, and grabbed a bag to begin packing. The door may only open one way, afterall.</p><p>The next morning she found the door again. It was still closed, and there was a moment where she thought she had imagined it all.</p><p>Then door opened, and down the street a house with a face looked at her.</p><p>She took a breath and stepped through. Even if she could not bring the story back with her, even if she was trapped here forever, she had to know.</p><p>A voice came from the house as she neared.</p><p>It called her closer, as the world behind the now closing door disappeared.</p><p>The voice continued as she finally opened another door.</p><p>And there was the man who had not existed, still singing the song.</p><p>She took another step forward, and saw her picture on the wall at the same time as his eyes met hers.</p><p>He continued to sing until the song was done, even as the goblin she had seen in the picture walked back to the door and closed it.</p><p>The final thud of the door shutting happened just as the final notes of the song filled the room, and afterwards there was silence.</p><p>“Forgive me, but I do not know who you are, even though your picture has watched me from the walls for decades,” the man finally said.</p><p>She could not help but smile at that. Decades was an odd time scale, and perhaps that was another question she would need an answer for. But for the moment, she was only glad to know that she was not the only one confused.</p><p>“I do not know you are either, but your picture has been appearing from my fax machine every day for months. I finally found old men at the nightclub who seemed to know you, but I only found you through the door,” she said.</p><p>The man looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced back at the door. “I- I suppose that makes a certain degree of sense.”</p><p>She smiled again, trying to put him at ease. “I am sure we will have plenty of time to discuss what exactly has occurred.”</p><p>“You do not intend to leave?” he asked.</p><p>The door was shut behind her, and the door before it had seemed even more firmly shut against what had been. She shook her head. “I do not think I can.”</p><p>He only nodded, and she could almost imagine he had been like her once, from the way he glanced at the door.</p><p>Finally, he cleared his throat. “You are most welcome here, in that case. I am sure we can find you a room, if you were meant to be here.”</p><p>The picture on the wall fell down with a final smile, as though now that she was here, it did not need to be there. </p><p>She ignored it, following the man down twisting corridors, until finally he opened another door. </p><p>This time it did not close behind them. </p><p>That was proof enough that this was what she had sought, she decided, taking in the surreal landscape around them.</p><p>Outside the window, the world continued to rearrange itself. </p>
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